


The Cloverfield

by Captain_Gef



Category: Actor RPF, Irish Actor RPF, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: F/M, don't know how to tag, sorry yo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Gef/pseuds/Captain_Gef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barkley, you ignorant dweeb</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cloverfield

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE FEBRUARY 2015: I REFINED CHAPTER 1. ENJOY. :3
> 
> \---
> 
> Update JANUARY 2015: Hi, hello! I wrote this off the top of my head one day and thought I would publish it. Looking back, I see that there are ways that I can improve the chapter. And, subsequently, further the story more. Basically, I hated where Kyra was looking to pan out as a character, and the general structure. Bear with me, folks! I'll get the writing done soon :)
> 
> \- CaptainG
> 
> \---
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a product of fiction; non profitable work.
> 
> Contains strong language.

Kyra’s eyes drooped heavily as the rays of sun slipped through the slider and onto her slumped form. Opening her eyes a fraction, she stared down the safety card that had been pushed into the back of the front seat, before grabbing it out and flicking through the laminated pamphlet aimlessly. Unsuccessful in her attempts to occupy herself, she shoved the card back into the seat and regained her slackened position, shuffling to further comfort herself as she turned to stare out the small window. However, that gave her little satisfaction as she was met with nothing but the dull grey of the plane’s wing jutting out across the tarmac. And so, Kyra returned to her initial motion of falling asleep and passing by the time with slumber until her plane had landed and she was forced to move.

That was, until movements in the seat next to her shunted her awake.

Grunting slightly at her disturbed and however short nap, Kyra slid up to allow more room for the passenger next to her who had moved in the row and was buckling their own seat belt.

"Sorry," she mumbled, not turning to face them.

"That’s quite alright," replied the man, with a melodic accent floating through the air between them.

Kyra’s eyebrows raised themselves slightly, before shutting her eyes and resuming her now less comfortable napping position.

_British._

On the verge of falling back asleep, the speaker fizzed above her and an air hostess drilled out to everyone on board the instructions should there be an emergency. However, all information was temporarily lost as Kyra once again grumbled and sat up in her seat, too preoccupied with creating a comfortable groove than potential life-saving procedures.

_Freaking air hostess and her freaking freaki-_

"Not achieving much?"

Kyra turned to look at the man, taken slightly aback and away from her thoughts --but then again gasped inwardly as she took in his appearance.

He himself pulled off his sunglasses from his face and lazily flipped them onto his head, before continuing; ”Rest, I mean,”.

_Shit._

"Er, no not really. I was trying to doze off, after I attempted reading these cards," she reached forward to touch the plastic cards sitting in front of both of them, clearly unused."but they didn’t offer much in terms of stunting my boredom."

"Hah, I see," he replied in that thick, crisp accent.

 _Correction: Irish_ , she thought. _Sounds better in real life._

"Yeah," her voice trailed off. Kyra tried to subtly wipe at the makeup smudges to the corner of her eyes, then fidgeted with her belt slightly as now it seemed too tight around her waist. Before she was able to loosen it to comfort, she was abruptly jolted by the plane beginning to make its way down the runway. Gasping a little as her innards became taut with nerves, she focused on evening out her breathing as she came to terms with who she was sitting next to.  
Of course refusing to make eye contact, and let alone look in his direction.

 _Just chill man,_ she thought. _He's someone regular just like you._  
Kyra slowly closed her eyes but it wasn't in search of sleep; more so, it was in search of keeping her focused and awake in this seemingly increasing stressful situation she now found herself in.

"Not much of a flier?" His voice rang out through her thoughts and Kyra peeked a glance to her left through the corner of her eye to see that he was staring directly at her.

"Mm, well I have flown a bit, yes, I just don’t know what’s gotten into me this morning," Kyra replied, furious at herself for so obviously making it aware that she was discomforted.  
Of course he had detected it, it must have stood out a long mile especially in such a close proximity as four feet of space where to slip in two seated people.

The pair then sat in what Kyra deemed an awkward silence, just as the engine rumbled and the plane turned to face its final stretch of ashfalt before take off. With a loud roar, and gathering much speed, the craft paced its way down and tilted upwards, raising itself from the ground.  
No longer drowsy but much more alert, Kyra leaned back rigid in her seat as the force of the takeoff leant both members further backwards. The sun beamed out above the clouds and lit up the half of face nearest the window, making her squint rather than absorb the sunshine she was so willing to do earlier.  
Kyra shuffled in discomfort, darting her eyes about and nervously attempting to steady her breathing.

She contemplated whether to start up a conversation again, just to make the exchanging of words between strangers a bit more even and creating a sense of contentment for the majority of the flight. Because, it was long enough to make the plane reek of awkwardness for a good long while.

Floating above the clouds, the seat belt icon dinged then went off and Kyra managed to quickly loosen the belt. Still inwardly mulling thoughts and decisions over in her mind she felt the man remove his belt and relax slightly into his seat, sighing loosely in the process.

 _At least one of us is comfortable,_ she thought to herself rather indignantly.

Kyra was pretty certain he was the man who often graced theatre screens and the like, but was still unsure whether to ask of his identity. It was a risk, delving into something like that; a straight up "No" would mean Kyra would be and feel a total idiot. And would want to drown herself in her own shame and embarrassment.  
She still wanted to talk to her partner, only because if he wasn't an actor then he sure was one good looking enough dude to try woo. Only a fool would deny and think otherwise.

For some reason, a courage that had failed to show itself earlier suddenly erupted within her and demanded --quote-- to; "Twenty Questions this shit".

"Um," Kyra turned in her seat a fraction to address him properly --if that’s what you call not completely facing forward and striking more of an awkward three-quarter pose. The sun still glared through the window, and bounced off of the lightly shaded surfaces of the seats around her so that it hit her eye irritatingly, making it harder to make out the man she was addressing; even though he himself was basked in the morning glow.  
If Apollo were to exist in present day, he would be sitting right next to Kyra.

Continuing, Kyra asked, “What about you, do you fly often?”

 _So much for that courage,_ Kyra thought. She could just picture something along the lines of a dog walking away with its tail between it's legs, and she mentally kicked herself for believing she could have the guts to ask a downright stranger if he happened to be rich and famous.

Turning to face her himself, the God-like man locked eyes with Kyra who just about fainted at the confirmation of her unasked suspicions. Nevertheless, she held his gaze before he started to reply --that was, after Kyra fully took in his appearance properly.  
A storm of grey flew itself lightly through his stunningly blue eyes, framed by the eyebrows gathered below his forehead in a lazy grace as their autumnal gleam traced the lightly lined skin. Dull brown stubble tinged with a rusty red brushed amongst the bottom half of his face, the chiseled jawline still very much visible beneath the hair. The hair on his head, in contrast, was neatly cut short with a trim only the best of barbers could replicate.  
He seemed not too much of an older man than she; with more of a weathered look about him than an actual man decaying in their age. However, the stubble that touched his jaw and neck didn’t hold back in aging the man in a manner of more wised intimidation, rather than fragility. Trying not to swoon, and tuning in to hear what he was saying, Kyra cast her eyes away to the right in a way that showed she was listening but without the anxious task of remaining eye contact with him.

Because it _was_ an anxious task.

And because staring directly at him would have wiped all trace of knowledge from her brain for a short while.

"Well, yes. Yes I do fly often, though after seeing you before it reminded me of how I really don’t get any rest on flights." he replied, smoothly and calmly, and as Kyra flicked her gaze back at him she saw a small smile light his lips.  
"I don’t understand how people can do it, just sleep through plane rides. I envy them so much."  
He chuckled, glancing down at his lazily folded hands and grinning at them.

 _Swoon,_ Kyra's mind echoed.

"Yeah, I mean, it’s not that hard once you achieve it I guess," Kyra replied still staring at him. He looked up then, and turned more to face her in his seat.  
Kyra too found herself angling towards him a little, the knots in her stomach still clearly prevalent but seemingly easing their hold.  
"Though I’ll never understand how my Dad did it. I remember him telling me about how he slept from Singapore over to England once. Well not the whole trip, I think they stopped off in Dubai to refuel. But, for most of the flying he was sound asleep."

"Hah, wow that’s some feat. I’m jealous, that’s a good fourteen hours or so of flight time."

"Yeah it is, truly remarkable."

Once again the conversation started to peter out, and Kyra felt herself begin to grow tense and nervous once more as the awkwardness settled again. Leaning back in her corner further, she flexed her hands in her lap and hoped that her fragile state at that moment wasn’t too noticeable.  
Why did this man suddenly make her feel so weak? The other men she had encountered throughout her short adulthood never had this effect on her. Then again this may be due to the fact he was pretty much what she suspected. And even that she had failed to confirm fully; the question as to his identity was lying uncharted.

As the lull extended, Kyra was faced with the decision to either to let the conversation die, or try her luck.  
She annoyed herself with how indecisive she was. Clearly, she was over thinking at this moment, but the added stress to the situation was not helping at all. This whole plane ride was a stress-filled paradox full to the brim with uneasiness and awkward tension.  
Before she let her entire body break down, one last surge of courage burst past her stupid barriers and launched itself high as she began to blurt out her question.

"Are you-?"

> **_"Good morning everyone. Very soon we’ll be coming through with a couple of refreshments on your way..."_ **

Interrupted again by the same air hostess voice streaming through the speakers, Kyra stopped her question now quite embarrassed.  
How marvelous it was that this was all happening before 9 in the morning..! There was now a weird patience floating between the two individuals; Kyra wondering whether to finish and the divine being next to her waiting for her to continue.  
The moments passed and Kyra began to succumb to her idiocy and surrender to the thoughts of self perception that started to run rampant in their conquest to make her feel even more uncomfortable. And dweeby.  
Instead of course, what should have been the idea of refreshments plaguing her mind.

"Mm, tea," the man muttered, leaning up to look overhead at the air hostesses who were now slowly making their way down the aisles and handing out refreshments. Sitting down properly, he turned to Kyra who, in the meantime had turned to gazing out the window and allowing the sun to wash over her.  
And to hide any inclination that a war of all wars was waging on within her.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

 _Shit, he’s pressing for the question. Damn,_ she thought. _Damn!_

"Oh," Kyra exclaimed somewhat lazily, turning from the window and pushing herself from the hand that was resting under her chin to address the man again. "I was just saying that you looked incredibly familiar." She lowered her gaze from him, timidly moving towards the window. But, upon looking back up at him Kyra saw that he only laughed quietly and lowered his eyes onto his hands, the same as before.

And the same as before, Kyra felt giddy as an aftereffect of his movements. And entire being.

Looking back up and locking eyes with, he started “Yes, yeah I get that a lot.” he grinned warmly at her.

"Oh," she said, "Becau-"

> **_"Tea or coffee, sir? Or water?"_ **

_That FUCKING AIR HOSTESS!_

Furious at her inability to actually carry on the conversation without faltering --and at the amount of times she was being interrupted-- Kyra quickly muttered a no thank you at the woman’s queries and resumed her cast down eyes and tilted head towards the window posture. Anger started to simmer on top of the nerves and general anxiety she was being plagued with. Which, to be quite frank, was a total pain in the backside. Especially as she had planned on getting some sort of rest on the flight, instead of sketching out about and beyond.  
She felt the man next to her move and pull his tray down from the front seat, and place his hot drink.

Too embarrassed to speak any more to the man, Kyra wanted to wail in frustration at her inability to strike up a well and true conversation. Though, she hadn’t been that good at speaking to people --she blamed that on the stupid social anxiety that plagued her often-- she felt that she could at least produce something here and now. Not knowing where this social discomfort came from, for even as a young pre teen she was an outgoing character in terms of speaking to people-- Kyra pinned it to just growing up in a world where she was judged on how she acted and presented herself. However there were instances where she felt she was truly at ease; normally with others who shared rather the same interests. But, even those were rare and infrequent instances indeed.

Kyra had hoped situations like the one she was currently in (where her confidence plummeted so drastically) would be remedied with her own coming of age and general life experience. She was wrong, but couldn't kick herself too much, she decided.  
In the past, whenever any hint of an awkward encounter with anyone arose, Kyra would descended into her protective shell and shy away from any further conversation. Not literally; usually, it would just be inconspicuous lingering silently in the background, or just any pose devoid of contact.

Which was what she was hoping to achieve now. To sit back and watch something so natural unfold, untainted without her input.

Sighing slightly, she felt the demi-God move to sip his drink. The air hostesses all but had moved on and the small hum of conversation mixed with airplane noises filled the air. But still, it was silent between the both of them.

 _I’m going to look back on this and shudder at my inability to talk to a hot man, let alone a hot man who happens to be a famous hot man,_ she thought.  
 _Oh well; it’ll be over soon._

"What were you saying before?" the voice shattered her thoughts as Kyra zoned in instead of out and leant back to turn yet once more to the man. "Before you were interrupted. It’s happened a couple of times, no need to worry though we’ll get there."

And then, once Kyra turned her eyes into his, he winked.

To say that it completely threw Kyra off was quite the understatement.  
Negative encounter caused by a socially inept girl-woman on a plane? Nay.

"Err," she mumbled, drawing the sound out a bit longer. She quickly darted her eyes about in an attempt to bide Kyra more time and conjure up a simple sentence while yet again trying to mask her embarrassment (though if he hadn’t noticed that earlier then he truly did not hold a keen eye). "Just, er, that you um- What is your name?”

_You're a goddamn mess._

Adonis smiled again at her, blue eyes twinkling and stubble-covered dimples moving with the his next words, “My name is Mike. What is yours?”  
He extended a hand, and Kyra took it, feeling its soft warmth linger as he moved it back to holding his drink.

"Kyra,".

"Well Kyra," Mike answered sipping his tea, "What brings you on this morning flight?"

\---

Kyra’s awkwardness that blanketed her slowly disapparated as their conversation wore on, and the dreaded confirmation that this man she was talking to, this handsome and charming man was not only realistically far older than herself, but really was the man she had seen light up the screens more often the last few years.

Mike was an individual that intrigued Kyra so much that she found herself at ease as they spoke and a familiarity grow between the pair. Which was odd, considering the few plain sentences that were exchanged between the two as well as their different backgrounds and age, and subsequent personalities. For he was obviously far more open than she was (as seen when it was he that had asked her more questions at the start, she realised), but more than talk about himself as a lot of “open” people had done when she had come across them, he was more open to who others were, and how they lived, and what made them tick.

It made Kyra feel like puking when she looked back on her conclusions about the man.

 _I make him sound like he’s Captain America,_ she thought.  
 _Which is funny, because he’s a comic book character and Mike is-_

"I never got my biscuit," Mike said suddenly.

"Say what?"

"I never got my biscuit from the air hostess."

"Did you ask?"

"I’m not too sure."

"Oh,"

"Mm,"

Mike leaned up again on his chair to look down the rows for any inclination that the air hostesses would be back. Kyra, on the other hand, chose this moment to stare at his glorious profile and actually take in the full brunt of who she was talking to. Again. Because it seemed so unreal, so surreal..

He wore a plain navy blue v-neck tee that draped itself comfortably and lazily upon his toned physique and, with the way he was holding his weight upright now, it clung to the muscles on his arms that had locked on the armrests to either side. Simple black jeans raked his legs with equally simple shoes hugging his feet, however simple they were they were of an expensive make; for their sturdiness mirrored even the jawline that was being shown again in the morning light.

He was neat; he was tidy, and Kyra prayed that he was oblivious to her opinions on his masculinity. As well as subtle sniffing of his cologne.

 _Chill, dude that’s creepy,_ she thought.

Letting himself slide down, Mike turned to face the already staring Kyra in disappointment. “I really wanted that biscuit.”

"No you didn’t," Kyra replied, looking away suddenly at being caught out spying and turning to fiddle with her cell phone, "They’re stale and not very nice tasting. Believe me."

"Hmph, that’s no good. Oh well, we’ll be landing soon I guess, we can get a biscuit once landed."

He said no more and both sat silently for a few minutes, before Mike got up for an assumed toilet break.  
It was once he was gone that Kyra glanced around and across the aisle for an idea of secludedness, when she let out a huge and long awaited sigh.

_Holy shit, holy fucking shit._

"Just breathe," she told herself, leaning forward and holding her head between her hands. Rocking slightly, she took in a few deep breathes and came to terms with what had just happened.

What were the odds?

It was true; they hadn’t gone further than Kyra giving him background information on why she was on the flight and where she had come from, but the manner in which he spoke was unlike any she had experienced with anyone her own age.  
It was almost as if he was..genuine? That he _genuinely_ wanted to know more about her?

Wait, isn’t it supposed to be the other way?

Kyra hadn’t on the other hand, asked him much in return. She didn’t actually know if he was the star she suspected him to be (however her own memories confirmed it), only that he had come into the country for a small holiday and was back from skiing down South.  
"Wonderful time," he had said, continuing; "Have you been down skiing in the Alps? You might like it."  
Again, that feeling of familiarity and ease had flickered about her and Kyra had felt less on edge about how she was doing in the conversation and more relaxed into it.

That was up until now. Now, she had worked herself up into a small frenzy, and Kyra feared she may suffer a minor panic attack; because it sure felt like it was happening here.

 _I look like a bloody fangirl. Showing all the symptoms; inward butterflies, inability to string a couple of sentences together in a calm and orderly fashion,_ she concluded to herself.

The voice slowed, before continuing; _And you’ve been swooning over his looks for the past 40 minutes, ever since he sat down._

_Oh God._

In one fluid movement Mike was back and buckling his seatbelt, as the sign flicked on again and signalling Kyra out of her thinking.  
Kyra leant up from her elbows, her heart drumming a chant for her fingers that nimbly locked the buckle in place. Turning out the window, she looked to see if she could glance the coastline before remembering that the plane nearly plunges into the sea, before landing on the protruding runway.

Kyra geared herself up for the landing, and subsequent farewell. However joyful the encounter turned out to be, Kyra knew that it would be nothing more than a nice experience to tell around the campfire at some party in the later hours of the night;

> _"I met Magneto once,"_
> 
> _"Gandalf!?"_
> 
> _"No; the young one. He asked me about plane food,"_

Surely it would give her some sort of brownie point for being an interesting specimen.

As the tires of the craft touched down, the jolt subconsciously slipped her back inwards slightly, and Kyra looked by on their conversation as though she had awoken from a dream. Not wanting it to fade away into memory too fast, she chose to try and grasp every bit of the journey. However mediocre it was, their exchange stuck out a mile in a memorable flight that surely would stay with Kyra for a long while.

Well, the negative aspects at least; they always seemed to stick.

The plane stopped rolling suddenly and in a lucid like state, Kyra was left to switch on her introverted ways, almost nearly forgetting the man next to her- for however upsetting it would be to depart, it would be easier to forget in the end than to remember the encounter happened at all.

The engine began switching itself off and air hostesses were welcoming passengers to their destination. Bodies began moving from seats and murmurs of “Excuse me“‘s and “Thank you“‘s bounced around the cabin.

Rising from the beige wall that had been the focal point of her gaze for the last two minutes or so, Kyra turned and was astonished to see that Mike was still there. He asked as to which bag was hers before handing it to her, his eyes glinting a blue light as he gave a small smile. The movements of everyone else around them seemed to not affect the couple who stood in a locked mist of comfort.

Mike cleared his throat before beginning, ”Well, this was a pleasant journey. I truly liked meeting you, Kyra.”  
Suddenly pushed forward, Mike had no choice but to follow the aisle and those moving down the plane, Kyra following a few people back. She continually stared at the back of his head as she realised that this would be the last sight of him she would remember- like small dregs from a memory of the slumber before, and sorrowfully let her eyes white out as she turned on auto pilot.

 _That’s that,_ she thought.

-

Moving left; right; Goodbye air hostess; left; follow the brown trousers of baldy; row of chairs; steps..

_It was fun, admit it. Even though you’re a bit gutless; it was fun._

_Even though he has now gone and is being swept up within the depths of the airport. Probably already forgetting me,_  she answered herself rather bitterly.

_Come on, he’s probably the most famous person you've met.._

_Eh._

Feeling somewhat deflated and depressed, Kyra moved along with the rest of the others who had filed out of the aircraft. Straying through a small lounge that opened up to a somewhat domed lobby, full of travelers and airport staff alike. She conveniently found her bag on the baggage strip and yanked it off in a forceful manner, beginning to make her way past others demonstrating a similar action. Casting her eyes down as usual, she moved towards the opposite side of the room to where the sign glowed with the words “Exit” and shuffled around in her bag to find money for the bus fare.

Literally pulled out of her reverie by a hand placed on her arm, Kyra switched on her eyes and looked up into what sharpened into a kindly face as it spoke.

"I didn’t get to finish what I was saying earlier," Mike smiled at her.

"That’s fine, I know you’re in a hurry and all. You seem an important person and whatnot.." Kyra trailed off, still holding his gaze and blatantly feeling his hand on her arm, and she even went as far as to suspect that the slight pressure on her bicep was in fact, him squeezing it as he spoke.

His smile widened visibly, the bustle of movement around them muted once more as they slipped into their bubble again. “What makes you say that? Anyway, I’m off to find a biscuit, like I said earlier. I had also said earlier that “we” could get a biscuit. But, er, your silence- well, I wasn’t sure of your reply. And I’m here to confirm it now;” He paused, quickening his pace in the next sentence, “Would you like to accompany me on finding some biscuits?”

Kyra was taken aback, and only twisted her eyebrows in an incredulous look at him.

_Eh, what the fu-_

Uh,” She grinned toothily as she began her reply, “Sounds good. Alright.”

"Excellent! Also, when I said biscuit I basically was asking you for a drink," Mike finished.

"Um, you do realise it's not quite ten in the morning?" Kyra asked him, not believing that he was serious in his question at all.

"It's 7.30pm somewhere,"

"Huh," Kyra only replied, arching one eyebrow inquisitively.

"I mean," Mike began again, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and moving it to scratch his head, "A coffee? Perhaps?"

"Hey, I only asked to make sure what you were saying is legit. Not denying that a drink would be kind of nice." Kyra said finally.

"So..you want to? I thought we could just get one here. For starters. Some biscuits maybe; the search could start here I guess."

Kyra then spread her lips into a grin at the quirky tone of the situation, and to express some sort of motion that wasn't either a scream of delight or..No, just a scream of delight. She nodded, and started to move away towards where the cafes and shops were located further in the airport.

Still surprised at the question and even her eagerness in her reply, Kyra turned to see if Mike was close to following, and watched him as he readjusted his bags so that one hand held them firm, and the other swiped his dark shades across his eyes. As they walked off together, Kyra felt a hand on the small of her back, and a weird sensation shoot through her stomach.

Yes, totally a fangirl.

**Author's Note:**

> AN:
> 
> Hello. This is my first bit of work. Please don't bite my head off. I know it won't please everybody but oh well.  
> Enjoy y'all.
> 
> Captain_Gef


End file.
